Here There Be Violin
by Neferit
Summary: Seven days, seven prompts, seven chapters, one pairing. Story of arranged marriage between Viola Whitfoot and Dwalin, son of Fundin, the way their relationship develops all the way from the Shire to Erebor that never fell to Smaug.
1. Arranged Marriage

**A/N:** So, there had been a Dwilbo week over at tumbrl; a challenge raised by Aida, who made a prompt list, and every day of the week one was supposed to take a prompt and write a story, or a snippet, about it. Well, I'm not filling this for Dwalin/Bilbo pairing. Instead, I chose my original character Viola Whitfoot (you may have already met her in several of my Hobbit stories), and with her and Dwalin paired up I wrote a story consisting of seven chapters, using the prompt list.

The story had been graciously beta-read by absolutely awesomesauce whilewewereyetsinners.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but the glass of pretty terribly tasting redwine. Ugh.

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**Arranged Marriage**

Viola certainly wasn't sure what to think, or even how to feel about the whole thing. One moment she was complaining that nothing interesting ever happened to her, and the next moment she was looking at a small glass bead in her hand. A white bead, while all the others had been black.

She had been picked as a bride for one of the dwarves from Erebor who had come to offer the Shire a deal – Shire food for dwarven craftsmanship, the whole deal sealed by marriage. And since the Thain refused to just order someone, the rest of them agreed it would be probably better to draw lots, the 'winner' being the lucky bride.

Her husband-to-be towered above her, almost as tall as a Man in her eyes, as she awkwardly looked up to him. "Dwalin, son of Fundin," he offered gruffly, bowing slightly to her.

She gave him a nervous smile. "Viola Whitfoot," she replied, offering him her hand. His grip was strong, his fingers rough from handling the enormous weapons strapped to his back, but at the same time, he was careful not to press her hand too strongly, mindful of its fragility.

"Would you like some tea?" blurted Viola, a blush colouring her cheeks. Her friend Bilbo would ambush her as soon as she parted ways with Dwalin, she was sure about that, but first she wanted to get to know the dwarf a little better. He nodded his agreement to her proposal, and with her hand on his forearm she led him to the smial she now lived in. It was almost comical how uneasy Dwalin looked in a hobbit hole, having to be mindful of his every move lest he hit his head on the rather low ceiling, but it warmed her heart a bit to see him awkwardly handle the cup she handed him, and see his eyes lighten up when she brought a big plate of cookies she baked just the evening before.

"Tell me something about yourself," Viola requested, and for a moment it looked like Dwalin would just sit there in silence.

Finally, his voice rumbled, "What would you like to know?"

Viola learnt that Dwalin was head of the Royal guard, a close friend of Prince Thorin. He also had a brother named Balin, who was the King's advisor. As she already guessed, he really had a sweet-tooth. And he also played violin.

"Really?" she asked, quite surprised. "I certainly wouldn't have pegged you as a fiddler!"

For a moment, Dwalin's expression darkened and he started to stand up, when Viola laid her hand on his forearm again. "I didn't mean to offend you," she said quietly, looking into his eyes, willing him to see the truth there.

The dwarf relaxed minutely. "Sorry," he said, and for once, his voice wasn't grumbly. "It's just a bit of a sore spot."

"You tell me! Nobody ever believes me when I tell them I can juggle bunch of plates around, see?"

Bilbo still did ambush her the moment she closed her door behind Dwalin, worried about her. She gave him a smile. "It won't be that bad, Bilbo," she told him, embracing her friend tightly. "And if you don't believe that, you can always come with me to the Lonely Mountain!"

She and Dwalin had a big Shire wedding only a few days later, with lots of flowers and plentiful food, before they made their way to the smial Viola owned. There still had been lots of things to plan before they departed for Erebor, but for the time being Dwalin was content with carrying his wife over the threshold of her home, only slightly grumpy that it wasn't a home he had made for her. He held her in his arms for the first time that night, both of them agreeing that they should sleep in the same bed, but leave the, ah, marital matters for the time they would know each other better.

Bilbo had been a great help to Viola when it came to organizing her things, and planning for the journey ahead. And in the end, he joined the dwarves in journey to the Lonely Mountain, eager to see the mountain kingdom, unable to remain in the Shire without his most trusted friend.

Things certainly will get interesting in Erebor, Dwalin thought, as he watched both hobbits trying to play 20 Questions with the dwarves around them. He only hoped that he would be able to make his wife happy with her fate, for he already could feel himself drawn to her more than he would thought possible.


	2. Protective

**A/N:** Second prompt, second day, second chapter.

The story had been graciously beta-read by absolutely awesomesauce whilewewereyetsinners.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but the bowl of strawberries with cream. Not perfect, but hey, it's still strawberries with cream.

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**Protective  
**

The great wilderness between the Shire and Misty Mountains was safer than it had been during the previous centuries, but at the same time one could never know where danger would show its head.

Like this night.

They had been only about half-a-day travel from the elven city of Rivendell, when they decided to make a camp by the ruins of an old farm.

"This place is creepy," murmured Viola to Bilbo, as they settled by the fire preparing food, as the dwarves bustled around.

Bilbo nodded. "You're right – there should be sounds of birds around at least, and there is nothing but the sounds we ourselves are making. Have you seen the farm?"

"Yes – it does look like rather recent destruction, and an abrupt one at that." She paused. "I don't like this place."

There showed to be quite a good reason why not to like the place. And the reason came in three– a trio of cave trolls stole several of their ponies, and only the quick thinking of the hobbits, who somehow managed to draw the trolls first into argument with each other and then in rather lengthy discussion about culinary matters, saved their dwarven protectors.

With the trolls changed into stone till the end of the days, Viola and Bilbo rushed to get the dwarves out of the sacks they had been thrown into, Viola rushing to Dwalin first of all. Her husband crushed her to him, and she wrapped her arms around his bigger frame, both of them needing to feel the other was safe and (mostly) unharmed.

"Don't do that ever again – prancing before cave trolls like that!" Dwalin growled, making Viola chuckle.

"Only if you promise me to never again get thrown into a sack by a cave troll," she responded cheekily.

Dwalin only hugged her tighter before he leaned down, nuzzled his cheek against her hair, and whispered, "Deal."


	3. Injury

**A/N:** Third day, third prompt, third chapter - you know the drill

The story had been graciously beta-read by absolutely awesomesauce whilewewereyetsinners.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but the cup of fruit tea.

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**Injury  
**

Dwalin knew he tended to act quicker than his brain could catch up, but somehow he didn't expect it to backfire quite so spectacularly.

Their company had arrived at the elven city of Rivendell two weeks ago, mostly because the King Under the Mountain had ordered them to play nice with the tree-sh- elves. The first - and only - time he used the word when referring to the elves, both hobbits gave him such shocked and even disgusted looks that he later ordered his men not to use the word, like, _ever_. Especially within the earshot of the Shirefolk.

Viola and Bilbo, on the other hand, had been absolutely enchanted by the city; spending long hours by walking around, talking to the elves, even being sought by them in return. And Dwalin felt _jealous_, so jealous, when he saw his wife interact with one of the sons of their host, Elrohir, and dancing with him, when the blasted elf asked whether he could have a dance with the lady. And the lady seemed to have loads of fun, eagerly taking in whatever the elves offered to teach her, from the rarely sang songs to the elven dances. In return, she and Bilbo offered to teach the elves the hobbit dances, making the elves laugh merrily as they had them play a swift polka, dragging the Tall folk to join them in dancing.

Of course, that had Dwalin stewing in his own juices. His wife was supposed to be interested in learning _dwarven_ dances, and _dwarven_ songs, not the customs of those pansies! And he promptly told her so, when she joined him in their room. Looking back, he sure as heck could at least have worded it better, and not so rudely, as his wife first just gaped at him with her mouth open and her eyes wide, only to have the light blush of her cheeks change into angry crimson as she snapped at him.

They had their very first argument, and she stormed out of the room, hissing, "Well, if you spent less time being a hateful _prick_" (yes, she really did say the word, surprising him quite a bit), "I sure would be willing to learn the customs of your people - but unlike the elves, you answer nearly every of my questions with _'it's considered a secret'_! So excuse me for being rather discouraged by being refused _every single time_!"

The door slammed after her, leaving him in their room with his heart hammering painfully in his chest as he dropped to sit on their bed. He slept alone for the first time since their wedding, because when the sleep finally took its hold of him, his wife had yet to return to their room. She didn't avoid him completely in the following days, since that would be improper, but she definitely didn't seek out his company as she had before, and Bilbo took to glaring at him with quite a fire in his eyes; the look clearly promising him terrible torture, which made it quite plain where his wife had gone after their fight.

He desperately wanted to make things right between them, but every time he wanted to talk to her he would see some elf around her and he felt his blood boiling in his veins again, the will to make peace disappearing into nearly overwhelming displeasure.

And it didn't get any better when they continued on their way to Erebor. Sure, there were no elves around anymore (the only elf that was supposed to guide them into one of the safe passes took his leave of them the day before today) but the gnawing guilt at allowing himself to explode over something which he knew was half his own fault wouldn't let him talk to her. So instead of talking about things and trying to find a compromise, they would spend the days in cold silence, and the nights with Viola's back turned to him, as she curled into a tight ball next to him (but a hair out of his reach) and went to sleep.

Then the ambush happened.

He would have thought that nothing would truly surprise him in the Misty Mountains, but it proved to be untrue. One night, they went to sleep and the next moment they were being surrounded by goblins; the ugly things appearing almost out of nowhere. They fought their way out of the murderous circle, but the dark ones followed after them, chasing them up to a cliff where the goblins finally caught up with them.

Dwalin was knocked down, blood pouring over his eyes, half-blinding him as he staggered to stand up again. Another hit knocked off his helmet and one of the goblins successfully landed a hit on his unprotected head, and that was when he heard unfamiliar screaming. The darkness of unconsciousness was unwelcome, since the last thing he saw was his wife standing above him, wildly waving a _frying pan_, of all possible things, screaming bloody murder and attacking the biggest goblin he ever saw.

All he could think was that he should be the one to _keep_ her safe, not to chase her into danger after danger, and then the darkness claimed him completely.


	4. Comfort

**A/N:** Fourth day, fourth prompt, fourth chapter - that's how I roll!

The story had been graciously beta-read by absolutely awesomesauce whilewewereyetsinners.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but most of all I do not own the makeup brushes I ordered from ebay. Since they didn't arrive in the ETA set by the buyer, I got full refund but... I don't want the money, I really want those brushes xD

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**Comfort  
**

When Dwalin regained consciousness, he found himself lying back on something soft; his every muscle giving him hell for straining them so much during the attack. There was a light pressure on his forearm, though, and when he opened his eyes to take a look at the source of the pressure, he couldn't stop himself from a loud intake of breath.

Viola had been sitting on a chair by the bed he was lying on, her hand on his arm as she slumbered in a rather unnatural position, only to jump awake at the sound he made.

"Dwalin!" she cried out, catching herself as she saw him wince at the sudden noise. "You're awake!" she added in a more hushed tone, quickly rising to her feet and rushing to the door. "Oin! Dwalin is awake!"

Dwalin bit back a grimace when he heard that. The old dwarf would surely chew him out for dropping his guard like that, but seeing the relief in the face of his wife made him soldier on and suffer in silence during the examination. Once Oin left, though, Viola was by his side again; this time sitting down on the bed, leaning in to caress his face gently.

"What happened after I was knocked out?"

Viola told him a tale he wouldn't believe if anyone else but she or Bilbo told him. They had killed the goblins that attacked them, although Viola was not quite sure how they managed to do it. Several of the dwarven guards went back to their carriages while the rest of them took care of the more severely wounded, Dwalin being one of them. Once the carriages arrived, they pressed on, and through some dumb luck they had run into a skinchanger by the name of Beorn. Beorn hadn't exactly been thrilled to find himself surrounded by dwarves - but the presence of the hobbits had seemed to soften him up, especially after the "little bunnies" begged him to let them stay until the dwarves were better. Well, that and Viola's tears.

"You cried?" asked Dwalin, bewildered. For a moment, Viola was completely silent, then she burst into tears and nearly jumped at him, her arms going around his neck as she sobbed.

He hadn't woken up after the attack, and all she had been able to think of had been those days spent in freezing silence.

Dwalin wasn't exactly sure what to do with the crying woman but to hold her and whisper nonsense into her hair until she calmed down. She looked up to him, her face still wet with tears, and he felt his lips widen in a small, private, smile. "I'm sorry for being such a hateful prick," he started, chuckling at the blush that coloured Viola's cheeks. "I should have talked to you before it could get as far as it got during our argument," he confessed, "and I'm sorry for not being able to say so before." He fell quiet for a moment before whispering, "I'm sorry for worrying you so."

"As you should be," sniped Viola back, but there was no real ire in her voice. Her hand rose to his face again, and she twisted her fingers into his beard, making him shudder in contentment. Gently, she added, "I know we agreed to, well, not do, uhm... any_ funny business_ before we got to know each other better - but would you be angry if I kissed you?"

In response, Dwalin pulled her down to him, his lips searching for hers for the first time since their formal wedding kiss. Her lips were soft, and slightly salty from the tears she spilt not so long ago, but he didn't mind. Things were still not completely alright, but they would deal with it later.

When he fell asleep that day, it was with Viola breathing contentedly in his arms again, and he was comforted by her presence.


	5. Friends to Lovers

**A/N:** Fifth day, fifth prompt, fifth chapter - that's how I do it when on roll. Thank you all for your support - it always makes my way :)

The story had been graciously beta-read by absolutely awesomesauce whilewewereyetsinners.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but but my cup of tea. But I swear I could kill for a cold beer in this boiling weather.

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**Friends to Lovers**

Working out all the kinks their marriage had suffered during the silent treatment period had been difficult at times, yet given the stubborn nature of both Viola and Dwalin they managed to survive it all, even if sometimes they had the urge to just yell at each other and then run out, slamming the door behind them. Still, it brought new understanding between them, and in some matters they simply agreed to disagree.

Viola liked elves. Dwalin did not.

Viola was eager to learn more about the dwarves. Dwalin was finally willing to actually teach her something, and in return, Viola would teach him something about hobbits; like - Dwalin, and with him most of the dwarves, had a sweet tooth, something that embarrassed him terribly. And hobbits... Hobbits had about one hundred fifty-seven recipes for sweet dishes, be they desserts, cookies, or just sweet buns.

During their stay at Beorn's house, Viola and Bilbo would often cook or take care of the big garden surrounding it, trying to somehow repay the skinchanger for the refuge they had found here. Beorn himself had been pleased when he tasted some of the hobbit dishes - the combinations of foods he had been used to certainly took a welcome turn, once the hobbits decided to do something unusual.

Every evening, Dwalin and Viola would retire to the room Dwalin (and thus Viola) had been given, Viola always carrying some sweet leftovers, and they would talk. This day, Dwalin decided it was high time to explain what all the braids and beads mean, and why he insisted she keep long hair and did not cut it shorter for the journey.

At least that was what Dwalin told his brother, who nodded, mischief dancing in his eyes.

In truth, Dwalin had quickly braided Viola's hair while explaining why each braid was so important and what those beads he used meant, and then they cuddled close, feeding each other the sweets Viola brought; the intimacy of it all making it harder and harder to keep the agreement they had. No funny business until they knew each other better.

Just - did he imagine the anticipation in Viola's eyes or not?

Several days later they were once again on their way to Erebor, Dwalin fighting with himself not to be jealous as his wife hugged the skinchanger tightly and told him to feel free to come to visit, should he ever have the time for that. Of course, the Greenwood was just ahead, and that meant more elves - but this time, Dwalin was determined not to let jealousy cloud his senses.

Not that it had been easy.

Just like before, hobbits were a big hit for the elves - both sides once again playing ten thousand questions, and even King Thranduil seemed to abandon his cool for the occasion, his eyes curious and open as he talked with the Shirefolk. As Balin pointed out, if nothing else it was clear who would be the best ambassador for relations with the elves - either Viola or Bilbo, or possibly both of them, since their charm combined could certainly be used as a weapon, should the need arise.

It was in the forest kingdom when the marriage of Viola Whitfoot and Dwalin, son of Fundin was consumed at last, Dwalin's fingers slowly removing the dress Viola was wearing, while Viola's fingers slowly traced the tattoos on Dwalin's body. Their joining was slow and careful, neither of them fully sure what the other would like and what would push them away; still, Viola thought with a blush, it was a blessing that the rooms in the elven kingdom had been built with strong walls and well-built wooden doors, otherwise they would never hear the end of it the next day.

Later, Dwalin would gaze at the woman slowly drifting to sleep in his arms, her cheeks still flushed, her eyelids heavy, yet her lips forming a small smile.


	6. Surprise

**A/N:**Sixth day, sixth prompt, sixth chapter - we are nearing the end of this. I hope you all are enjoying the ride!

The story had been graciously beta-read by absolutely awesomesauce whilewewereyetsinners.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but my bed that is calling to me right now - but I still have chapter to post, bed, you really will have to wait.

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**Surprise**

Dwalin fancied himself knowing a number of things concerning hobbits, now that he had been married to one for several months.

They liked their peace and quiet, and rarely left on _'adventures'_, since those were likely to make you late for supper.

They liked flowers and sun, and above all cherished their homes, lovingly built in the soil that gave them their food.

They were proud of their gardens, just like a dwarf would be proud of his craft.

They were very careful when it came to taking care of the hair on their feet, just like dwarves were proud of their beards and braids.

Still, it came as a surprise, when they reached Erebor and Viola announced that one day in a week's time they would eat like hobbits - meaning all seven meals at the appropriate times.

Breakfast, Second Breakfast, Elevensies, Luncheon, Afternoon Tea, Dinner, and Supper; all with capital letters and all of the same importance to the Shirefolk.

Breakfast he understood - if one were to be able to work through the day, breakfast was a mandatory part of the morning routine. When Viola served it, it consisted of sweet rolls, butter and various jams, and cups of fruity smelling tea. It sat pleasantly in his stomach, so that as he prepared for his morning training he felt refreshed and more awake than he used to.

When he returned after the training session he had with the youngest of the royals, Princes Kili and Fili, Viola waited for him with a small package. "That's second breakfast for you to eat, when you get to the barracks," she explained, sending him to work with a kiss.

He had just finished his morning rounds, when he came to the barracks and found Viola already there, chatting pleasantly with his sergeant, making the poor sod blush under all that female attention, unromantic as it may be. "Dwalin!" she called, rushing to him. "I've brought you some elevensies - nothing special I'm afraid, but I think there is enough for everyone?" His men were going to love her, he thought, as he watched his guards munch on the cookies she left them. He actually _heard_ one of his men complain that she was married - were she single, he said, he definitely would be marrying her, if only for the way she could cook.

For luncheon, he was at home, wolfing it down before he returned for his afternoon rounds, even though the full stomach was making him a bit sleepy. If he remembered correctly, there were three more meals to follow, and it made him wonder how people who ate so much were not the size of Bombur, one of the royal cooks.

Afternoon tea was only a light meal of sweet scones and more tea, this one having a pleasant herbal aroma, fresh after the sweat-filled day.

While he took care of his weapons, Viola was already dancing in the kitchen, humming a cheerful tune, as she stirred something in one of the pots. He had no idea what exactly she put in the stew she served him later for dinner, but it tasted absolutely heavenly.

When they ate the last meal of the day, the supper, Dwalin was still so full after the whole day of eating, that he ate only little, making Viola giggle when he groaned about being unable to eat anything more.

If he in turn surprised her with a bouquet of flowers the next day, none were witness of that but themselves.


	7. Family

**A/N:** Seventh day, seventh prompt and seventh and final chapter! Thank you all for your support while I was posting this, you all rock my socks, and I hope to see you at my other fanfics as well, if you enjoyed this one :)

The story had been graciously beta-read by absolutely awesomesauce whilewewereyetsinners.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, and especially not free time. Funny how thing tend to group in order to make you run from one thing to another, not letting you rest, eh?

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**Family**

It certainly didn't come as a surprise to Dwalin that his cousin and friend Thorin didn't see the value of his wife and her friend. 'Soft and useless', 'burden', 'not having a place in the Mountain', he called them, and wouldn't stop his tirade until Dwalin sucker-punched him for badmouthing his wife.

Nobody, including the Prince, would be allowed to badmouth Dwalin's wife, and with that punch he made the message crystal clear.

Since then, Thorin would just glare at them as only he could - as if they were something unpleasant he just found on the sole of his boot; something even less pleasant than an elf - and that really took the cake. Viola and Bilbo, on the other hand, remained polite most of the time. Still, when the thinly veiled insults grew too much, they were swift with responding in kind.

This undeclared war left Dwalin at a loss about what to do. On the one side, he owed his loyalty to the Prince. On the other side, he owed his loyalty to his wife. Between these two he felt torn, and neither of them were making the whole situation any easier.

After several weeks of this war, Viola tried to lay down the arms by inviting Dwalin's friends (the royals among them, if they deemed it a worthy invitation) for afternoon tea, and with Bilbo's help she completely outdid herself in preparation of sweet scones, fresh cookies, fruits with cream, and cakes so light and fluffy they almost floated.

Frerin, Dís, her husband Vili and their sons Kili and Fili, even Thrain, as well as several other dwarves, had most certainly enjoyed all those dishes, and were fairly awed when they heard that hobbits, while at home, eat seven times a day. Every dwarf here seemed to like food, sweet food or well-prepared meats especially, but to hobbits, who would spend gladly a whole day preparing a feast, it seemed like they didn't even bother to spend enough time preparing something proper to eat.

Thorin just ate what was offered to him, his expression dark and stormy.

As Head of the Guard, Dwalin was obligated to attend various galas and banquets, mostly to just show his wife off (as number of people had been more than curious about the hobbit lass he was supposed to bring with him from this land named Shire) and be seen in presence of royals, making everyone know that the Durins are well-protected. During one of the meetings that Dwalin attended with his wife, there was an assassination attempt of the oldest Prince. Thorin had been exchanging insults with a mostly resigned Viola, when some movement she caught with the corner of her eye attracted her attention.

She didn't have enough time for anything but to cry "watch out!" and push Thorin out of the way of the already aimed crossbow. The arrow, aimed at the taller dwarf, would probably have hit him in most vulnerable areas; hitting a smaller hobbit, it just sank deeply into her left shoulder, causing her to scream before she collapsed.

Dwalin and the other dwarves quickly took care of the assassins, moving the Princes to safety. Meanwhile, Oin had kneeled by Viola's side, examining the wound with an increasingly worried expression, giving Dwalin an even worse feeling about the whole event.

"The arrow seems to be poisoned."

Dwalin spent most of the day and half of the night pacing before their chamber, after being told to 'stop being in the bloody way all the damn time' by Bilbo of all possible people; the hobbit allowed in there only because he was the only other hobbit in the Mountain, as well as being rather skilled in the healing arts. When they rushed his wife there, Viola had been teetering between wakefulness and unconsciousness. She had smiled at him before he took his leave of the room, only to gasp in pain as Bilbo made a move to tie a bandage around her shoulder.

That was all several hours ago.

Thorin, Frerin, and Dís came to join him in his vigil, quietly asking whether there was anything new, but as Dwalin's mind wasn't set on speaking with them, they stopped asking and just sat there quietly. When Oin finally left the room, Bilbo close on his heels, to tell him that unless something changed dramatically Viola should pull through, Dwalin didn't even stop to respond; instead he just rushed to his wife, immediately sitting down next to her on their bed and carefully gathering her into his arms.

It took two days for Viola to wake fully, Dwalin barely leaving her side during the time, his sergeant taking over his duties in his absence. They were just quietly arguing that Viola was not allowed to risk herself like that, when there was a quiet knock on the door.

"Come in!" Viola called, smirking at Dwalin, who was giving her a look that clearly stated 'do not think we are finished here, ma'am!' To both their surprise, it was Thorin who entered, twitching uncomfortable at their combined scrutiny. The Prince took some time to start speaking, both of them comfortable to let him gather his thoughts (well, one does not rush royalty, yes?), but it still took them by surprise when the Prince finally spoke.

"Didn't I say you are soft and useless? Didn't I call you a burden?"

Just when Dwalin was rising from his place to very literally throw Thorin out, the Prince actually smiled sheepishly. "I've never been so wrong, _cousin_, and I'm sorry for taking so long to realize it. You are a worthy addition to the family."

The couple just gaped at the Prince, who excused himself as soon as he was finished with what he wanted to say, leaving the couple to stare at the door for a moment before they turned to each other again.

Viola fell asleep that day with feelings of peace, for the weapons in the undeclared war were finally laid down, and she had been accepted into the family at last.


End file.
